SPARTAN III Halo Remixed
by Kyle-203
Summary: PostHalo remixed. Mostly accurate but not all. About Master Chief training a new generation of Spartans to prevent an evolvation of flood reinfest the galaxy.


I'm not super pro at Halo, so I don't know all those organization names and stuff, so you'll see me making some up.

SPARTAN III

_Chapter 1: _SPARTAN202

1300 Hours, Catskill Mountains NY

October 15, 2580

Planet Earth

The cue ball slammed against the two, sending it into the left corner pocket. John backed up to spin around the table and sink the eight ball and win the game. His friend Alex clenched the cue stick hard enough to snap it into two pieces. He only had one striped ball in a pocket.

"Eight ball, corner pocket," cried John, pointing his stick to the right hand corner of the pool table. Alex nodded to give him the go to attempt his shot. Of course, John successfully pulled off what Alex could never do. John won the game and Alex sulked.

John always won.

"Congrats, you've won for the billionth time in a row. Give it a rest."

John shrugged. He hung up his black and silver cue and took a sip of a root beer sitting on a table in the back of the room. Alex went over to do the same. "What can I say," John gloated, "It's not my fault I was born who I was."

Alex had questioned John many times on what it was like be a soldier at the age of fourteen. Alex was disturbed when he told him that he had accidentally killed three adult soldiers when he was a kid. Alex never would have been able to withstand that.

Alex also hung his cue up and reached for a cigar. John objected. "I told you not to do that any more."

Alex lit the cigar and said, "One piece of tobacco every now and then ain't going to kill me, mom."

John sneered. Every now and then for Alex was almost every day. John, like most adults, smoked a cigar on the occasion. But he had never smoked when he was in the service.

Then the door rang. John glanced over to a hologram to notice a short man dressed in a black combat suit with a some-how-futuristic looking helmet. The strange thing was that John had recognized it from somewhere.

John squinted at the projection. "That man—he looks familiar."

Alex laughed. "What are you talking about? You can't even see his face."

John sighed. "No, the helmet; I've seen that helmet before."

"Well, let's not keep the man waiting." Alex motioned towards a speaker. "Tell Vince to let him in." John nodded to Alex and he spoke to Vince through the speaker. Vince was John's butler.

Several minutes later John and Alex awaited their mystery guest in the dining room. They sat over a long chrome table with a silver statue of some sort in the center. The door opened and they stood up to greet the man.

He had his helmet off and what they saw was quite a surprise to both of them: he was only a kid. He was only thirteen, fourteen at most. John observed him closely. The suit he was wearing had the United Nations insignia patched on. They had finally found him.

"I'm looking for a man that goes by John Smith." The teen had a cracking voice, but it was strong and hard. Before John answered, he observed the young recruit. He had short black hair, pale skin, and was about five foot seven. He was holding his helmet with his left hand. Then John noticed something he wished he hadn't: on the boy's helmet in very small white letters was something that read TERRAN-202. This boy was a new Spartan.

"Who's asking?" John's voice turned very stiff and tough, which was like he talked when he was in the service.

"The UNSC and Chief Fondus," answered the Spartan. "My name's Terran-202." He led out his hand which was covered in a smoke-colored leather glove. "You must be John-117."

"Yeah." John said. Alex was intrigued and was listening closely.

"So, what's the story?" John sat at one end of the chrome table and Terran sat at the other. Alex sat in the middle, quiet as a mouse.

"Well, there were seventy-five of us to begin with. Spartans 151 through 225. Dr. Gindrik was the one to pick"—

John interrupted and finished his sentence. –"the fifty of you that would stay. Is this doctor a woman? And did she use a coin to choose which ones would stay and which ones would return to their parents?"

Terran nodded. "I see they are using the same method for the Spartan III project as they did for Spartan II. There is one difference."

John knew that they wouldn't do it completely the same. If the did, they would all be dead right now. "How's that?"

"Well, instead of enhancing the performance of the Spartans at age fourteen like they did for Spartan II, they ejected us with a serum when our parents were pregnant. So our performance enhances over time instead of all at once."

"Smart," complimented John. "Half of the Spartans died when they tried to enhance us; now Earth will have fifty super soldiers right out of boot."

Terran nodded once again. John was still trying to configure why Terran was here. John looked at him in a way that said to continue.

He cleared his voice and explained, "The real reason why I am here is not to go on and on about Spartan III. Chief Fondus has a large favor to ask of you."

"Shoot kid, I got nothing to loose but time hanging out with Alex here." That made Alex feel about an inch tall.

Terran smiled. "Okay; here it goes. He wants you to train us for the next several years."

John didn't even think or make any gestures. "Come back April 20th at 0600 and you'll get you answer."

Terran was caught off guard with John speaking so fast, but he managed to nod and shake their hands. He walked out the door silently and left John and Alex to make the decision.


End file.
